


Alcohol & Polaroids

by 108am



Series: Cigarette & Coffee [2]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Drinking, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lost Love, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-17
Updated: 2010-07-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1623524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/108am/pseuds/108am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guilt eats away at his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alcohol & Polaroids

**Author's Note:**

> Side story to [Cigarette & Coffee](http://108am.livejournal.com/22147.html), from Jaejoong’s perspective this time. This one was actually harder to write—I’m not really satisfied with how it came out—but hopefully it seems alright to everyone else. I think I’m heading into a writing slump. OTL

It had been exactly twelve months since he left his lover crying and begging for him to stay, exactly twelve months since he let his jealous nature controlled his actions.

He stormed out of that apartment carrying nothing but a single suitcase that was heavy with polaroids more than clothes. The polaroids that were full of nothings meant everything to him. He had taken pictures of everything that represented his beloved lover from a favorite hat to random close shots of Changmin.

_One sip._

He would lose himself in the memories the polaroids reminded him.

_Two sips._

He would remember their fights that were becoming increasingly aggressive.

_Three sips._

He would realize he had started every single one of those fight.

_Four sips._

Snapshots of memories that could have been ate away at his heart.

_Five, six, seven…_

He would begin to lose count in how much he drank. Before long, his apartment would be full of empty bottles of various alcohols, one for each day since he left, scattered across the wooden floor along with the polaroids. The alcohol filled the air with a foul stench that was both comforting and unsettling. The intoxicating scent was always a one-way ticket down memory lane for him, but he sometimes also found himself stumbling through hallucinations of a future that could have been.

He drank, half-hoping that it would numb his being until he could feel nothing, but he was also hoping that his true self would emerge. He hoped, perhaps in his drunken stupor, he would forget his pride and gain the confidence to go back and beg for forgiveness.

But it was always the same ending.

He would fondle one particular worn out photo of Changmin—the one with him smiling freely without a single care in the world—and afterwards he would crumble the photo and place it inside his drink, and walk away.

Eventually he would take the photo out and dry it carefully, but the same thing would happen the next day anyway. It was a mindless routine, but this was the only stability he had left in his bleak life.

It had been twelve months since he began wishing he wasn’t such a cowardly fool.


End file.
